


Lullaby

by tcheschire



Series: Wasteland Baby [1]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Artist Enabling Artist, Closer to slice of life, Definitely Murder Though, Gen, Super vague mentions of body horror, angst if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:20:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23239852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tcheschire/pseuds/tcheschire
Summary: During a routine supply-run to a tiny hamlet, Sasori encounters a song he hasn't heard since he was a child.
Series: Wasteland Baby [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1676050
Kudos: 9





	Lullaby

**Author's Note:**

> So this came from an idea I had a few months ago, originally for Halloween, to use Hozier's _Wasteland Baby!_ as horror prompts. Still a good idea, still totally might do that, but! I've been watching the Naruto anime (having only read the manga, up until around Pain and Konan's background), and I got to Sasori's arc and I just remembered how much I missed him. He is one of my favorite characters in all of media, and I'm pretty certain I could write any prompt for him (I say with confidence, because back in the day I used to). I'm way, way back on my shit now. I will say this, writing for the Akatskui is a lot harder than it was fifteen years ago because they've all got lore now - I miss the good old days when I could write Sasori as a crotchety, age-indeterminate geezer. I'll get used to it for him, though.
> 
> Anyway! I'm considering making this a series of vignettes along that vein. I have I think four or five planned out. For now, have [Track 2 - Almost](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JJ9IX4zgyLs).

“ _Danna_ , check out the architecture of these buildings!”  
  
Though they were still quite a ways out from the village, Deidara brushed his hair aside to scan ahead, leaning forward in his excitement. His right eye shone, and he clenched a fist tightly before him. “They might be some backwater hicks, but they’ve got taste, _un_!”  
  
“Iwagakure brat wants to call others ‘backwater’,” Sasori snorted. Still, he focused in on the village through Hiruko’s eyes and found that the boy was right: for all that they were a very small hamlet, tucked in a remote and undisturbed corner of Suna along the Kawa border, it was undeniable that they knew what they were doing. More than simply the grace of their lines and the composition ( _here he was, thinking about composition at his age)_ , it was clear even from this distance that their masons were top-notch.  
  
He ignored Deidara’s spluttering and focused a glare on him. “We are here for supplies,” he reminded his partner firmly, allowing the gravel in Hiroko’s voice to deepen. “Not to make a mess.”  
  
Deidara’s blue eye narrowed at the tone. “You don’t have to talk to me like I’m a child, _danna_ ,” the boy insisted, his lip curling at the bottom in offense. “I’m _just saying_ , just imagine how beautiful – “  
  
“Deidara.” Hiruko’s joints rattled a threat, and Sasori stopped his movement to turn to face his partner fully. “Our time is budgeted. We will go in, we will come out, we will leave. I won’t repeat myself.”  
  
Though he looked very much as though he would have loved to argue the point, Deidara let the matter drop. He was good about that in spurts, off and on, although whether it was out of respect for Sasori himself or simply because he did not want to hear the inevitable haranguing, it was impossible to tell.  
  
The rest of the distance to the town passed in relative silence, with Sasori checking once to make sure Deidara had his half of the list and receiving a noncommittal _un_ in response, and once they reached the gates they separated without a look or word.  
  
During these kinds of errand visits, Sasori left the nurseries for last – it simply made no sense to take a plant from its controlled environment for longer than it needed to be – and once his eye caught the herbalist’s humble cottage with its tiny greenhouse, he made note of its location and shuffled through the streets in search of the rest of his acquisitions. Vinegar, charcoal; he left the simpler items to Deidara, both a precaution and a warning not to fuck it up, and set out for some semblance of a hardware shop.  
  
The shop was modest, like everything else in the town was, and he was greeted upon entrance by a young man wearing a greasy apron, distinctly fatigued dark bags underneath his eyes. Sasori paid the man little mind, weaving about the aisles with practiced ease in Hiruko’s cumbersome body. A whetstone for Hidan, needles for Kakuzu, and for himself, wire. With care, he found the things he needed – at a ryo shy of a bargain, after the conversion of currency.  
  
“You know,” the tired young man said when he placed the items on the counter, taking in the dust covering his cloak with a cautious eye. “We’ve much cheaper, if you need.”  
  
“No, these will do.” Even Kakuzu knew where the line was, having had to waste further time and funds on shoddy equipment.  
  
The look in the tired young man’s eyes brightened. “Aahh, you must be a craftsman, then. These really are the best that we carry – possibly the best quality you’d find even in a big city. This wire,” he tapped the spool with a finger, “has been treated in Sunagakure, but the alloy comes from the Land of Iron itself, a mine beyond the Three Wolves.”  
  
“I know,” Sasori rasped pointedly. “That’s why I want them.”  
  
“You lucked out,” the young man continued, finally wrapping the purchase. “We had to visit the city earlier this month, and I couldn’t believe my eyes – ah!” The young man jerked at the sound of wailing that erupted from the floor above. He slapped his hands in front of his face, bowing deeply. “Please excuse me, my son – !”  
  
Sasori allowed the full effect of Hiruko’s bloodshot eyes to fall upon the young man, who blanched. “If he causes trouble on his own, you shouldn’t have left him alone,” he snapped, fingers twitching against his side. “I have business elsewhere, and I don’t have time for this.”  
  
But the young man was already making his way around the counter, Sasori’s tone drowned out by the screaming of the surely infant child. “Please! I’ll only be a moment, I’m so sorry! One moment, please excuse!” he babbled before ducking underneath a curtain and vaulting himself of the stairs.  
  
There was a brief moment where Sasori was tempted to simply leave the shop, or to simply take the parcel – but the supplies were desperately needed, and there would be no end if he was the one who caused a fuss over something as stupid as the murder of a shopkeep who was dumb enough to chase after a shoplifter.  
  
And so Sasori waited.  
  
Though he did not, strictly speaking, experience emotion, let alone the physical effects that resulted from it, he remembered more or less what they felt like, and more out of habit than anything else, he ground his teeth. Reflexively, his fingers twitched, and a deep rattle escaped from Hiruko’s mouth. He could imagine the child’s issue – it was hungry, it needed changing, or worst yet _it was tired_ – and his disgust deepened.  
  
As a creator himself, he would never overburden himself with something that didn’t suit him. If one is able to take care of his creations, that was one thing, but to create something only to half abandon it was another.  
  
“Leave the child with another,” he muttered. “And you’ll both be better off for it.”  
  
He heard the footsteps soften overhead, muffled against the presumably much softer flooring in the living quarters. The child’s wailing continued for a moment before the young man murmured gentle negotiations to it – after a moment, the murmurs took on a rhythmic quality that Sasori assumed was singing, though he could not hear a distinct melody.  
  
Another voice joined, much lower, and the footsteps darted to another room, where a muffled conversation occurred – one voice pleading, the other quietly concerned. Finally, a rustle, and the footsteps returned to the wailing of the child.  
  
Then, so quietly Sasori wasn’t certain he was hearing it correctly, a tinkling melody drifted through the wood of the floor and the melody attached itself to the rhythmic murmurs from before. The first few notes were nonsense, but by the refrain Sasori realized that he knew the song.  
  
It was an old Suna lullaby, older even than his grandmother, who had sang it to his father, and later to him during his longest, most turbulent nights. Before he realized, the words had found their way out of his mouth, rough, but still as though he had heard them only yesterday.  
  
It was a cautionary tale, as many lullabies were, about a young child whose eyes would be stolen by butterflies if they were not shut in sleep.  
  
_“Chiyo-baa,” he had protested, “if I don’t keep my eyes open – “  
  
__“Naa, Sasori, you have no reason to keep your eyes open.” She was patient with him, more patient than she would ever have been with any other person, and she pressed him back down into the mattress, smoothing the linen quilt over his little chest. Tucking the corners beneath his shoulders, she brought a finger up to tap the tip of this nose gently. “And if you go to sleep right away, you can have all the horses in Suna!”  
  
__As if to prove her point, she sang the verse once more, her smile satisfied when she finished. “Now, Sasori, you must – “  
  
__“Chiyo-baa, I don’t want any horses,” he said softly, tucking his chin underneath the quilt.  
  
_Little by little, the tinkling of notes overtook the crying infant until the only sounds that remained were a gentle snuffle and a stilted strain that evaporated into the air. Then, after a beat of silence, the footsteps crept back down the stairs and the young man appeared, brushing the curtain aside with his arm.  
  
He had the grace to look abashed, at least. Bowing once more as he took his place behind the counter, he resumed wrapping the items for purchase. “Please excuse me, my deepest apologies, _ue-sama_ , it’s just, my wife is very sick and can’t take care of the baby right now, because we have to keep them separated – “  
  
The words came out in a rush, and Sasori slapped the money on the counter to silence him, snatching the parcel and turning without a word. Though there was another beat of silence, the young man called after him as he crossed the threshold, “Thank you for your patience, _ue-sama_!  
  
From the corner of his eye as he turned, Sasori saw Deidara jogging over to meet him. “We have enough vinegar to last us until the end of time,” he announced proudly, adding, “Apparently there was a special, since there was too much leftover date wine from the last moon festival. How you have too much leftover wine is a hell of a concept to me, but Kakuzu’ll be happy to hear, _un_.”  
  
Despite his partner’s prattling, Sasori could still hear the sounds of life from inside the shop behind him: the gentle _swish_ of the curtain, the footsteps up the creaking stairs and across the rugs on the floor, the gentle sigh, and the quiet crank of the music box before the soft, tinkling notes floated down to the street from the open window. Scowling, Sasori grunted.  
  
“ _Danna_?” Deidara waved a hand in front of Hiruko’s face at the first sign that his partner was paying him no mind. Then, as the tune began to pick up, he canted his head, directing his ear toward the window to better hear. “Ahh, a nice little tune. I’ve heard it once, but we have different lullabies in Iwa. Do you recognize it, Sasori _no danna_?”  
  
His teeth ground again, and he felt a gear in his jaw pop, spinning uselessly against his skin. Hiruko’s feet scuffled against the earth, gravel crunching underneath the sandals, and he fixed the boy with a severe look.  
  
“Deidara,” he growled, eyes snapping up to the window, where the familiar murmuring voice began to hum. “Burn it down.”


End file.
